


Weed & Whiskey

by inthevegaslights



Category: I Don't Know How But They Found Me (Band), Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-03 05:38:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15812511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inthevegaslights/pseuds/inthevegaslights
Summary: The media liked to portray them as a band full of Alphas, and Brendon had never cared to correct them. Why did it matter what someone was or wasn't? So he didn't have instincts like other people and he didn't get to mark or mark someone as his and have that kind of an emotional bond with someone. That--Well, that part would have been nice. But Brendon didn't care. He was a beta, and he was fine with that.That was until he wasn't.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, I don't have this story outlined like I usually do with my stuff so who knows how long this'll turn out. But I know where it's going and headed so buckle up it's gonna get weird.

The Uries were Betas. That's just all there was to it. For decades and decades, each member of the Urie family tree had not presented, and that was fine. It wasn't like Brendon really cared. He hadn't cared in high school when all his friends would talk about whether they presented as an Omega or an Alpha. He hadn't cared when the first guy he had ever kissed gave him a confused, "What even are you?" when he couldn't smell the scent of either an Alpha or an Omega on him. Hell, he hadn't cared when he was stood up on a blind date when they had found out that Brendon was a Beta. 

He hadn't cared at all until he first joined this band. No, that's a lie. Not when he first joined. Brent was a Beta, after all, it was something he had bonded over his ex-bassist with when they first met in high school. It was when Brent was kicked out and replaced with Jon that Brendon really started to care. Because being a band was one thing, but being in a band with three other Alphas was another thing entirely. 

At first it wasn't so bad. They all had different personalities when it came to dominance. Ryan was always quiet and kept to himself, but had this aura about him that demanded obedience and respect. Spencer was a goofball with bright eyes and an even brighter smile, but as the designated leader of the band he was a bit of a hard ass when it came to getting things done. And Jon? Jon was the biggest stoner Brendon had ever met outside of himself, and even that laid back man could make any one's knees weak. Brendon never felt threatened or uncomfortable around his bandmates, but dealing with three different rut cycles was a god damn nightmare. 

It was what he didn't envy about the whole Alpha/Omega dynamic. The fact that they went through periods of needing to get their damn dick wet. Ryan was the worst of the three, but then again he was sexual by nature. If Brendon had a dime for every time he saw their lanky guitarist with a mystery girl or boy, he wouldn't need royalties. And they were never quiet about it, either. Be it in a bunk on their tour bus or a room in a hotel, Brendon could always here when one of them was with someone during their rut. It was so... animalistic. Barbaric, even. Brendon shuttered to think what sex with an Alpha or an Omega must have been like. 

At 20 years of age, Brendon was happy being a Beta. He didn't have to experience the things his bandmates did and he was perfectly fine with that. The media liked to portray them as a band full of Alphas, and Brendon had never cared to correct them. Why did it matter what someone was or wasn't? So he didn't have instincts like other people and he didn't get to mark or mark someone as his and have that kind of an emotional bond with someone. That--Well, that part would have been nice. But Brendon didn't care. He was a beta, and he was fine with that. 

That was until he wasn't. 

They were in the middle of touring, and Brendon could feel the rocking of the bus as they drove down the highway. There wasn't a sound in there, not from his bandmates or Zack or the driver. Just the rushing noise of wind against the car and the occasional sound of Spencer snoring in the bunk above him. All day Brendon had been fidgety and restless, though that hadn't set off any alarms in his head. He was always fidgety and restless, there was no scandal in that. 

He couldn't get comfortable. Everything felt too hot, Brendon tossing and turning in his bunk as he gave a few breaths to try and cool himself down. He could feel his hair sticking to his face with sweat, the red T-shirt he wore clinging to his chest and dark around the armpits and the small of his back and center of his chest. Christ, why was it so hot? Angry, he kicked his way out from his bunk to make it back to the lounge area of the bus. 

With a grunt he opened up the mini fridge and grabbed a Capri-Sun, only to sit cross-legged on one of the sofas. Water would have been a better choice, but he wanted something to play with in his mouth, Brendon rolling the straw back and forth from either side of his pursed lips as he gulped down the liquid sugar. It was still too hot. Unbearably hot. Everything felt drenched with sweat and he groaned, curling up onto the couch as he cracked one of the windows open to get the air circulating in the bus. 

But in spite of how awful he felt, Brendon was horrified to find that he was starting to get hard. There was an ache in the pit of his stomach that went straight to his dick. Why, he had no idea, and he definitely didn't want to find out, either. But fuck if he couldn't help but grip one of the couch pillows and hold it to his chest tightly, his hips bucking up against the air of their own accord. 

Slowly but surely he felt his breathing pick up, Brendon's eyes fluttering as a drop of sweat made it's way down the side of his neck. Had he accidentally taken something? Was that why he felt like he wanted to die and needed to get laid at the same time? With a frustrated groan he reached back to dip his fingers down the wasteband of his pajama pants, confused by the dampness he found there. Had he been dripping precum already without so much as touching his dick? Curious, he palmed himself carefully, fully hard but not nearly hard enough to get as sticky as he felt. Then where was it coming from? He let his fingers wander again, this time around to the back of his pants only to gasp loudly as he felt how fucking slick his hole was. 

"What the fuck? What the fucking fuck?" Brendon croaked out, horrified and beyond confused. Then the scents hit him. Musky and earthy and entirely intoxicating. They were too much for him, Brendon unable to get up or find his voice as he just drowned in the all too welcoming smells. It felt like he was drooling on the pillow he clutched to himself, his eyes watering and unable to focus more than they already couldn't. He whimpered, suffering through the uncomfortable heat pulsing through his body and the incredible urge to go towards the enticing smells in the distance. 

It was a good two hours that Brendon laid there, helpless and dazed and confused. He could see the sun peeking out past the window in front of him, but his body still felt as awful as it had when the feeling first started. The pillow in front of him was soaked in tears and saliva, his face flushed red as he tried his damndest to pull himself together. In the distance he could hear foot steps, Brendon's heart leaping excitedly in his chest as he hoped to God it was someone who could help. 

"H-hey.. h-hey!" He gasped out, trying to get the attention of the footsteps getting closer to the lounge. 

"B? Why aren't you in bed? You drink too much and--Holy shit!"

Zack's voice was better than anything that he had ever laid ears on, Brendon shuttering on the couch as he lifted his head to stare up at his horrified body guard. "I think I took something... Or someone dropped something in a drink I had or.. I don't know. Zack, fuck," he hissed, another wave of painful arousal washing over him. His pajama pants clung to him, visibly damp with whatever the fuck was dripping out of him, Brendon too gone to feel shame. "I think I need to go to the hospital..."

"You don't need the hospital, idiot. Have you never been in heat before!?" Zack snapped, Brendon offering a glare in response because haha, very funny. "I'm being serious! How could you not tell us you were coming into heat?! If the guys wake up and smell you they're going to eat you alive!"

"Heat!?" Brendon croaked out, familiar with the term from his Omega friends. "I'm a Beta! Please... Zack, please, it hurts... Call 911--Do something!" He pleaded. If this was a joke it wasn't funny. 

"Do you not--Jesus Christ, B," Zack snapped, deserting Brendon and earning a pathetic sounding whimper in the process. Was he seriously just going to leave him like this? Becaue he was stupid and throught that a God damn Beta was in heat? He'd fire him. He'd make sure Zack never worked again. He'd have to go back to being a chauffer for escorts and transporting guns. He'd--

Brendon's face lit up as Zack reappeared, the choke sobbed that fell from his lips more than appreciative. 

"Take this," Zack instructed, handing him two white pills and a bottle of water. Brendon opened his mouth pathetically, Zack earning a sigh as he put the two pills on Brendon's tongue for him and held the bottle to his lips. He chugged it down, not letting up until the water was completely drained. Then there was silence.

It was a good forty minutes before Brendon began to feel sane again, the fog from his brain finally clearing as he sat up with a groan at how tense and locked up all his muscles felt. He rolled his shoulders, his heart thrumming in his chest as he groaned at just how damn sweaty and sticky he felt. "Just what the fuck was that?"

"I told you, you went into heat, " Zack answered bluntly, tossing Brendon a fresh pair of pajamas. 

"I'm a Beta, dude. Betas don't go into heat," Brendon shot back, more than happily changing into the fresh T-shirt and pants, grimacing at the clothing he changed out of--he'd have to burn those. 

"You're not a Beta. You're an Omega. I'm a Beta. You, kid, are no Beta," Zack laughed, clearly amused that Brendon wasn't grasping the reality of the situation. "Do you really not get it? Is this your first heat?"

"It wasn't a fucking heat, dude! I'm 20 god damn years old! People present when they're 14, 16 at the latest! I'm a Beta! My mom is a Beta, my dad is a Beta, my brothers and sisters are Betas, my grandparents are fucking Betas! Are you telling me that out of 100 years of Urie Betas, my freak ass is gonna present as an Omega at 20 years old!?"

There was silence again. 

"Yeah, man, that's what I'm saying."

"Fuck you, dude," Brendon snapped, standing up to glare at Zack. "What did you give me, anyway? Aspirin? Tylenol?"

The way that Zack laughed made him want to reach over and deck the man in the face. His answer made him want to do it anymore. "No, they're heat suppressants for Omegas that aren't trying to breed. Kind of like birth control, basically."

"Why the fuck do you carry that shit around if you're an Omega!?" Brendon hissed, wanting desperately to scream but knowing that waking up his bandmates like this would be the worst idea. 

Zack shrugged, indifferent. "Because when the guys bring back an Omega that shows signs of being in heat I like to make sure there's no chance of an accidental pup in the oven. Looking out for you boys."

Brendon fell back onto the couch in a pile of limbs, dazed as all hell because... fuck. Zack was right. How could he not be? If it walked like a duck and talked like a duck... "Can I... Can I get some of those pills from you, then? Do I have to take them every day for the rest of my life so that shit doesn't happen? Will the guys find out?"

With a sympathetic sigh Zack nodded, placing a comforting hand on Brendon's back. "Hey, it's like taking medication every day. It's not gonna alter your personality or whatever. It's just gonna make sure...that... never happens again. The guys won't have to know. I'll keep it between us. And when you feel ready to tell them, you can. Take things at your pace."

Ready to tell them? Oh hell no. He was not in a band with three Alphas, after all. He could feel his eyes rolling at the thought of admitting to the trio that he had finally presented, but not as a damn Alpha like they were all portrayed to be. They couldn't know. They didn't need to know. It was no one's business but his. 

"Jesus Christ, who had the Omega over?"

Brendon and Zack's eyes both snapped to the entrance to the lounge, face to face with Ryan as the sleepy guitarist made his way to the fridge to grab a water bottle. What Brendon hadn't expected was the sudden wave of need that rushed over him at the sight of his guitarist, Brendon able to smell that musky scent from before but not nearly as strong with his urges dulled. Jesus, was he going to act this way around every Alpha from now on?

"I did!" Zack blurted out, covering for Brendon as he gave a loud, confident laugh. "Yep. I was just telling B here about it. Fun times."

"Yeah? Shoot me their number. They smell fucking amazing," Ryan chuckled with a cocky sort of smile that made Brendon's stomach do sommersaults, the younger boy going rigid as his eyes fell on him. "I feel bad for you that you don't get to experience how good a real Omega smells. Like, Zack had a really perfect one here from the smell of it. God dam."

Brendon's cheeks lit up, his body thrumming in excitement as he quickly laughed and got up to excuse himself. Fuck that, fuck this, fuck all of this, hell no. This wasn't happening. 

"What's his deal?" He could hear Ryan's voice as he all but ran out of the lounge to dive into his bunk, his heart pounding in his chest.

There was no way he was telling them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The way this story has been received after one chapter really made me happy. Like. For real. Thanks, homies. Let's get a final bit of exposition before we get into the nit and gritty, yeah?

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck."

It should have been a simple routine. Wake up, take a pill, proceed with your day. Millions of people did it every day, Brendon was told. So why was it so God damn hard for him to remember? Oh, right. Because he had the memory of a fucking goldfish.

Spencer had long since left the hotel room to raid the continental breakfast downstairs, and somewhere between waking up and checking his texts for fifteen minutes and taking a shower, it dawned on Brendon that he had forgotten to take his suppressant. He was already six months into the game and it was still impossible for him to remember taking the damn thing on a daily basis. Zack had suggested he set an alarm every day to remind him, but Brendon hated the idea of one of the guys noticing and grilling him on why he had the same alarm in the middle of the day and his sleep schedule was so hectic that it wasn't like he wanted to normalize it for a stupid pill.

His suitcase was in shambles in the middle of the hotel room, Brendon cursing even louder at the fact that he genuinely couldn't find his prescription. He distinctly remembered having it on the bus, and he remembered shoving it in his bag so he could take it with him durng one of the few days that they would be spending nights at a hotel instead of on the bus. So why was it that even torn apart, he couldn't see that fucking prescription bottle?

"Lose something?"

Brendon's head jerked to the side abruptly, his heart nearly leaping out of his chest as he watched Ryan make his way into the room. The man was like a damn cat. No matter how many weeks they spent locked in small spaces together, Brendon couldn't get used to his guitarist's habit of appearing out of what felt like thin air.

"Yeah--I mean, no. I'm just packing back up again. Couldn't find my belt. How'd you get in here?" Brendon snapped, unable to hide the irritated edge to his voice brought on by an hour and a half of tearing his personal belongings apart over a stupid bottle of pills.

"Spen gave me his key when he noticed you weren't out of your room yet. Sent me up here to drag you out of bed," Ryan answered in that bored, detached drawl of his that Brendon could never really tell if it meant he didn't care or if he did. Ryan, though expressive in his lyrics, was never very expressive in his tone of voice. 

Brendon shrugged, gently pushing the clothing on the floor this way and that in a vain attempt to feel for anything that resembled his suppressants. He could feel his heart thudding against his chest, his eyes darting around the pile of trinkets and clothing on the ground. Come on, think. The last thing he needed was for Ryan to find it before him. 

"You know, you've been acting twitchy, lately."

Twitchy? Brendon was always twitchy, he thought in irritation as he grabbed his suitcase to begin shoving his things back into it with far more force than necessary. He could just see if Zack had something on him like he had when he found him half a year ago when he presented. To continue searching in front of Ryan was a death warrant. "Twitchy, how?" Brendon piped up, the way he kept shoving his things into his suitcase with no sense of organization making Ryan inhale sharply through his nose. 

"Like... You're nervous. Uncomfortable. Anxious? It's like you can't relax around any of us. Did we do something to piss you off?" Ryan moved to sit down beside the smaller musician, only to begin casually folding some of Brendon's shirts to help him pack his things up again.

That's when it hit him. Ryan's scent. Something musky and deep and inherrently masculine that forced Brendon still. His fingers twitched against the ball of clothes in his hand, Brendon shifting his gaze towards Ryan to study him closely. He seemed unbothered, like he wasn't aware of how overwhelmingly enticing he smelled. Brendon had spent enough years with his bandmates to know how they behaved when their rut came on--obnoxious, aggressive, demanding, impatient. But Ryan was none of those things. He just looked like his usual, bored self. 

"Is your rut supposed to come on soon?" Brendon blurted out before he could catch himself, his brain short-circuiting at the smell clouding his brain.

Ryan's expression didn't change, though he blinked slowly at his bandmate, "Excuse me?"

"Your rut--It's coming on soon, isn't it?" He repeated.

"Are you documenting my cycles or something, dude?" It came off cheeky, playful even, but Brendon couldn't help but feel humiliated by the suggestion. 

"No! What? Fuck no! I don't care, it's just--" he caught himself this time before his tongue tripped him up once again. He was supposed to be a Beta as far as the guys knew. Betas couldn't smell an Alpha coming onto their rut. There was no reason for them to, after all. Admitting to being able to smell Ryan would only raise questions. "You're being really fucking protective right now, that's all. Talking about me being distant or nervous around you guys. I'm not, why would I be? Just been stressed from all this touring. Relax, man."

Nice save. 

Ryan hummed quietly to himself before he nodded his head, ruffling Brendon's hair as he stood back up on his feet. "Okay, hurry up and get your shit and get on the bus. We've got a show to get to."

"I'll be down there in like, five minutes," Brendon waved his hand at Ryan in dismissal, chanting in his head 'check for it at the venue, check for it at the venue, check for it at the venue,' repeatedly in his head. 

"Oh, and hey, B?"

Brendon stopped with his aggressive quest to punish his medication-eating suitcase by stufing it to the brim with clothing to look back up at Ryan, his frustration clear as day on his face. 

"My rut isn't due for another two weeks, weirdo."

The smaller man stared at him with wide eyes, the rush of color in his cheeks hard to ignore as Ryan laughed and shut the hotel room door behind him. Fucking prick. 

Fortunately Brendon didn't have much time to dwell on Ryan's cocky smile and the lazy way he pronounced his vowels, seeing as he only had so long to shove his belongings back into his bag and haul ass to the bus so they could get to the venue on time. The chorus of "Look who finally showed up!" as he entered the bus was deafening, Brendon promptly flipping the bird in the direction of his bandmates as he dove into his bunk to sulk for the time being. He still couldn't find his God damn pills and the scents rolling off of all three of his friends was fucking with his head. 

The drive from the low-rate hotel to the venue was short lived, Brendon having barely enough time to calm his anxieties down let alone try and find his medication. And in the process of hiding from everyone in the small, dark space of his bunk, he'd accidentally fallen asleep. Something about being in what felt like a cave had always lulled him into sleep no matter how awake or stressed he was, and with their soundcheck time not being for a few hours, it wasn't like he was in a hurry to go anywhere.

There was maybe an hour before their soundcheck call time when he came to, groaning as he pulled himself out from his bunk and rubbed at the sweat that had formed at the back of his neck. It was the heat that woke him up. Radiating and sticky and humid as his entire body shivered in displeasure. He looked at his phone, a grunt of annoyance leaving his lips at the realization of how little time he had to get not only into his damn stage clothes but to clear his head of the fog that settled around it. 

Still sleep riddled, Brendon made his way out of the bus, greeted by the sight of three men smoking outside by a van that reminded him of the days when they first started out as a band. Two roadies Brendon recognized from his own staff, and a blue haired man with a wide smile and a relaxed air about him that he couldn't quite place. 

"Hey, you with the opener? Sorry, dude, I usually try to meet everyone before we kick things off," Brendon smiled sleepily, sticking his hand out towards the much taller man for him to shake. 

"Nah, it's cool, man! Your friends told us you were passed out on the bus. Party too much last night?" The blue haired man grinned, the words earning a laugh from the exhausted looking singer. 

"I wish. No, just coming down with something, I think. I'm Brendon, by the way. You talent or with the crew?" He asked, politely holding his hand up as the other man offered him a hit from his cigarette. 

"Talent. Drums for the first of the two acts that open up for you guys on the west coast leg of your tour. I'm Ryan, heard nothing but good things about you guys," Ryan shook Brendon's hand, the name earning a bit of a snort from Brendon. Ryan. So there were two Ryans on this tour, at least for the first 7 shows. Funny. 

"So you're with the long named band, huh? I Don't Know.... Whatever the fuck," Brendon laughed, embarrassed that he couldn't remember the name but the wave of chills that washed through him distracting enough for him not to be too caught up in his lack of knowledge. 

Ryan grinned a little wider, nodding his head. "Yeah, I Don't Know How But They Found Me. Dallon came up with the name, he's the real brains behind the operation. I'm in it for the fun ride. He's a cool dude, though kind of stand offish and quiet. Nerdy, older guy. I was nervous at first about touring with a bunch of Alphas for almost three weeks but then I heard you were a Beta and I was like, okay, cool! Finally another Beta so I don't have to worry about being picked on!"

"What?" Brendon blinked dumbly at Ryan, trying his damndest not to let his eyes glaze over as the enthusiastic drummer spoke. It was just impossible when he felt so... incoherent. 

"I mean like, I'm a Beta, too! And usually all the musicians we tour with are Alphas. Must be a personality thing, I don't know. So it was exciting tot me to hear about another Beta, let alone the frontman of the headlining band. Y'know?"

Brendon smiled, nodding tersely in response. Beta. Right. Something he thought he'd been all his life up until six months ago. "Yeah.. Well... I have soundcheck. I'll talk with you guys later. Tell your vocalist I said hi and that I swear I'm not an asshole!" He rushed out, as another wave of shutters racked through him. Ignoring the curious look on Ryan's face, he made his way into the venue, promptly yanking open the first door he could as he locked himself inside the room. 

Shit, he knew what this feeling was. It was the same stupid feeling he got when he first found out he was a fucking Omega. Had he really lost his medication on a day where his heat was supposed to hit? What were the fucking odds? Brendon made a mental note to enlist Zack as his official medication assistant, seeing as he couldn't be trusted to take it his god damn self without losing the damn shit. Brendon inhaled sharply, groaning low in his throat at the way that his clothing felt like it was clinging to his skin from sweat. There was no fucking way he was going to be able to perform like this. Ryan, Spencer, Jon. They'd all be able to smell just how-- 

"Uhm.."

Brendon's eyes snapped in the direction of the voice, wide and furious as they settled on an uneasy looking man sat on the couch. Not anyone he recognized. That was for God damn sure. 

"Who the fuck are you?" Brendon snapped, his voice a raspy gasp as he could feel his knees beginning to buckle, the unfamiliar weakness and sheer, stupid need rolling through him as unpleasant as it was pleasant. 

Pretty, blue eyes. Tall. So fucking tall. Sturdy build. It took what little self-control Brendon had lift not to go over and climb into the stranger's lap. 

"Are you lost?" The stranger spoke finally, his voice calm and concerned and strangely endearing. 

"Am I-- No I'm not fucking lost! I said who the fuck are you! Where's Ryan? Spen? Zack? Fucking Jon?" Brendon snapped, able to feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest as the smell from the man in front of him hit him. Oh, God damn it, he would find an Alpha, the scent on the man drawing a high pitched whine in his throat. 

The stranger set his laptop off of his lap, those eyes pointed and fixed on Brendon in a way that made him shutter. He hated this, hated all of this. 

"Which one of them is your Alpha?"

Brendon stared, horrified and confused at the question. "Which one is my Alpha?!"

"That's who you're looking for, right? Your Alpha?"

"I don't have a fucking Alpha, idiot! I'm not--" Brendon groaned loudly in frustration, grabbing a hold of the arm of the chair beside him as he was hit with yet another series of chills. Jesus Christ. He could feel himself getting wet with slick, his stupid body betraying him as the stranger looked at him in concern. 

"You don't have an Alpha...?"

Brendon sat himself down on the chair, holding his head in his hands as he shook his head back and forth. "Please... Please, just, please find Zack... Tell him--Tell him I'm in here. Just Zack. Please!" He begged, choking back a sob as he listened for the stranger, relieved when he heard him begin to move. When the quiet man walked past him and opened the door, Brendon let himself sob in relief, glad that he listened to him rather than just keep asking stupid fucking questions. 

"You'll be okay, little Omega, don't worry," the man spoke reassuringly as he shut the door behind him, Brendon's head jerking up abruptly at the words. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.


	3. Chapter 3

He missed sound check. Of course he did, it wasn't like he could stand in his state let alone do much else! Fortunately, Zack covered for him, and when Zack said that Brendon wasn't feeling well it was better to just leave it alone rather than press further. It took maybe two hours for Brendon's body to come back down to normal, only vaguely aware of the voices in the room that spoke pointedly at one another. 

"--What does it matter if he's an Omega or not? Who cares?"

"Brendon does! Do you know what it's like to believe you're something your entire life? To promote that as a selling point for your band the entire time? And then all of the sudden you're not? He should have known years ago if he was an Omega! No one would believe him if he said what age he really presented. The media would drag his name through the mud, and the band would resent him. Just keep it to yourself!" Zack. That was definitely Zack. He'd recognize that voice anywhere. 

With a groan he sat up, his entire body sore from holding so much tension in his muscles for so long. Thank God for Zack and his perpetual ability to come in and save the day last minute. Where would any of them be without him? 

What he didn't expect was the taller stranger to still be in the room. Staring. Very intensely. At him. 

"What's he still doing here?" Brendon groaned, rolling back over on the couch he'd been put on so he could fully face the pair in front of him. 

"We were just having a conversation about your... Situation."

Right. Fuck. He'd made that Omega comment towards him when the worst of it started, hadn't he? There wasn't a doubt in his mind that he probably (no, definitely) smelled what Brendon was going through. It was a universal sign for any Alpha, 'Please put it in me.' It made Brendon pale at the thought. Jesus, he liked it better when he thought he was a Beta and didn't have to deal with any of this shit. 

"Just kick him out. No one's going to believe some random dude," Brendon dismissed the problem immediately, Zack fixing a look that very much screamed 'shut the fuck up' towards him.

The man simply smiled, the amusement on his face hard to deny even as Brendon glared at him like he was a nuisance he didn't feel like dealing with. "I'm so sorry, we haven't properly met. I'm Dallon Weekes, I'll be on tour with you guys for the west coast set of shows." 

Shit. He was the opening band. He should have guessed that, especially since he knew exactly who Zack was and where to find him. But even a staff member at the venue would have known that. So maybe he wasn't entirely to blame. Brendon groaned, wiping the sweat from his brow as he hung his head in his hands. This day couldn't get any worse. 

"Zack.. thank you," Brendon spoke finally, looking back up as he felt his friend's hand on his head. 

"It is what it is. You can't be held responsible for your own damn meds so I'll take care of that I'll have Ryan or Spencer come bring you your stage clothes to change into."

"That's not a good idea..." Dallon spoke up from behind Zack, Brendon forcing himself not to glare daggers at the tall front man as both he and Zack looked at him silently. "It's just--Well, he looks--I mean, he smells--"

"Excuse me?" Brendon snapped, liking this Jolly Green Giant mother fucker less and less the more he opened his mouth. 

Dallon just continued to smile, though not patronizingly. It was almost embarrassed. "You can just tell what he went through, that's all. Any Alpha can see it. If they saw him like this they'd know instantly. You can smell it on him, still."

At least he was being helpful. 

Zack sighed, throwing his hands up in defeat as he stormed towards the door. "I'll get it, then. Weekes, make sure no one else but me gets in here. Brendon, stay there!" He barked, practically slamming the door behind himself. 

It was enough to make Brendon smile, no matter how humiliating it was to be caught in such a position. Though there was still the issue that someone knew his secret. Someone he didn't know. Someone he had to be touring with for the next few weeks. Why the hell did the universe hate him so much? Firstly, by making him present so late and life. And now this shit? 

This guy was the type to stare. Brendon could tell. Or maybe it was the fact that any time he glanced over at Dallon, the man was staring. Context clues and all that jazz.

"Do you need something?" Brendon snapped, not even caring to be civil. At this point Dallon had lost that privilege, by no fault of the man's own.By all intents and purposes, he should have been grateful for Dallon. It was because of him that only Zack had to see him like that. But the prideful side of Brendon held out, embarrassed that a stranger had caught him in such a vulnerable moment. Even if the stranger had turned out to be kind and understanding. Christ, what if he hadn't been?

But Dallon just smiled, still keeping a respectful distance from the flushed and embarrassed Omega on the couch. "No, I'm just glad you're okay."

It wasn't the answer Brendon had expected. In fact, it was probably one of the last things he expected from someone who didn't intimately know him. But for some reason, he believed Dallon genuinely was relieved that he was alright. 

"Yeah. Well. Thanks. And thanks for keeping this between us," he replied, glad that the flush in his once over heated skin had kept him from being too obvious about his embarrassment over the whole situation. 

"But can I ask you a question?"

There it was. Brendon sighed but nodded his head regardless. Any time he'd been asked a question like that, it usually was followed by something incredibly ignorant. 

"Why don't you want anyone to know you're an Omega?" Dallon asked, the genuine confusion in his voice almost endearing. 

"It's not like you'd really get it. You're an Alpha. You basically got genetically picked to be t the top of the social pyramid. The way the guys talk about Omegas--It's like--It's like they're not even people. They're just like, objects of amusement or lust or a means to get off or just a means to breed. At least when I was a Beta, I didn't think about this kind of stuff. None of it applied to me, and, well, I liked that. I liked not having to think about the politics of everything. But now I can't even act the same around them anymore because in the back of my head I know how they look at Omegas, and the fans always really liked that none of us were one. Who the hell has heard of a front man being a damn Omega? I'd rather just be a Beta and go back to being unconcerned with all of this shit," Brendon sighed as he sat back further, his righ leg bouncing incessantly on the ground beneath him.

He fully accepted Dallon to roll his eyes or laugh at him, but instead the tall man just continued to watch him with what he could only assume was concern. "How did you know I was an Alpha?" Dallon asked, the question almost laughable. 

"I can smell it on you," Brendon answered with ease, shrugging his shoulders. "Alphas usually smell a little more earthy, muskier. I thought that was common knowledge?"

"Yeah, but usually you can't really smell that on an Alpha unless they're in their Rut and I can assure you that's not the case," Dallon chuckled, the sound deep and soft at the same time. It was strangely comforting, Brendon able to feel the nervous buzzing under his skin finally subsiding. But the smaller man just shrugged, indifferent. "I'd think you'd be excited to be an Omega over a Beta, though. You get to Bond with someone, Betas can't do that," he continued almost as if he were trying to comfort Brendon over his existential crisis.

Bond, yeah. That was something he'd read before in high school. That whole concept that there was one Alpha for every Omega out there, that an Omega could be marked by their Alpha and the whole universe would know not to touch them. The concept had always seemed kind of Medieval to Brendon. It was like a possessive form of marriage that seemed more ownership than romantic in his eyes. And why the hell had Betas been deemed unworthy of partner that was either Omega or Alpha? Because they were incapable of breeding? Sure, he'd seen Betas get with people that were Alphas or Omegas before, but there was this giant social stigma against it that Brendon had always been uncomfortable with. Like the idea that they were apparently taking someone's mate away from them.  
The whole concept was ridiculous. 

"You say all this because you're an Alpha. You get to pick and choose whoever you want, sleep with whoever you want, you're at the top of the pyramid. It's not like you can really understand something you've never experienced," Brendon sighed, growing more and more frustrated with the conversation. And clearly Dallon could see that as he politely backed off.

The door to the dressing room flung itself open, both men jumping in surprise as Zack stomped his way back into the room with Brendon's stage clothes in hand. "Change!" The bodyguard barked, the one word holding more of a threat in it than any direct promise of violence ever could. It actually made Brendon smile, knowing full well that Zack was probably more stressed ove Brendon's inability to remember to take his medication (let alone where he hid the damn shit) than Brendon probably was. 

"That's my cue, then. Break a leg out there, looking forward to touring with you guys," Dallon smiled as he took his own leave to open the show, Brendon's eyes trailing after him as he left. Strange guy. 

Fortunately the show went on without a hitch, no one besides Dallon and Zack any wiser to Brendon's little episode. It was back to business, the opening night of their tour as electric as any other start to a tour had been for them. And as usual, the opening night of tour meant celebrating with their fellow acts touring with them and the staff that made it all possible. With the buses still parked in the back and the venue effectively empty outside of approved personnel and guests, Brendon had to wonder if it was louder with drunken musicians than it was with screaming fans. 

Brendon was in that comfortable stage of being drunk, the kind of drunk where your eyes felt heavy and your face tingled and felt warmer than it really was. That kind of drunk that was walking the fine line of having a good time and being one shot away from doing something incredibly stupid. It was his favorite kind of drunk. 

"B," he heard the nickname called out from behind him, greeted by the face of his guitarist as he broke out into a grin and walked his way away from the guitar tech he'd been talking with in order to plop himself in the seat beside Ryan and Spencer. 

"You rang?" Brendon practically sang as he felt Ryan roll his eyes. 

"You feeling any better?" The question made Brendon take pause, blinking slowly at the man beside him. Wait, did he-- "You've been sick since you woke up, you sure you should be drinking?"

Oh, right. He'd told Ryan he didn't feel good, then there was Zack covering his ass earlier saying the same thing. Ryan genuinely believed him to be sick didn't he?

"Yeah, yeah! No, yeah! I'm fine, I think I just ate something bad. I felt fine when I woke up from my nap. Aw, you worried about me, buddy?" Brendon cooed, throwing his arms around the lanky guitarist's neck as he made a series of kissing noises against his ear. 

"Jesus, yes, I care, contrary to popular belief I'm not a heartless bastard and I genuinely care about the people in my life," Ryan chuckled softly, pushing gently at Brendon's head as he continued to cling to him. "You smell like Jack, gross. Could you pick a cheaper whiskey?"

Brendon just laughed, nuzzling his nose to Ryan's neck and staying put as he closed his eyes. Really, the stupid bastard smelled good. It was no wonder he was the one who pulled the most tail out of everyone in the band. Ryan dripped confidence and charisma, it was something even Brendon had to admit he was drawn to. 

"Are you going to fall asleep on him?!" Spencer laughed from beside him, the sound making Brendon grunt in the positive in response because at this point he was too comfortable to care about how it looked. "Who said Brendon wouldn't be the first to pass out? Someone owes me fifty bucks."

"I'm not passed out," Brendon grumbled into Ryan's neck in response, the vibrations from the taller man's laughter making his nose tickle. 

Ryan slid an arm around Brendon's shoulders to help him to his feet. "Come on, you're going to the bus. If someone offers him a shot he's gonna take it and I'm not dealing with a pukey vocalist on the way to the next city," he teased, Brendon reluctantly getting to his feet as he bumped his hip to Ryan's. 

"I can stand up, I'm fine! I just wanted to rest my eyes a little," Brendon whined, following Ryan as he began to lead him towards the back exit of the venue. 

"No, seriously, someone owes me a fifty!" He could hear Spencer call out from behind him, the teasing comment enough to make him laugh. 

His footsteps felt heavy, though he contiued to follow Ryan with that same pout on his face. "I'm really not that drunk. I'm fine! I don't need to lay don!" He whined childishly, feeling very much like a kid being sent to bed too early. 

"I know. I just wanted an excuse to leave and make you hang out with me," Ryan answered calmly as he pushed the door to the outside open, reaching into his back pocket for his box of cigarettes before giving a little curse. "You got a lighter on you?"

The comment caught him off guard, Brendon moving on autopilot as he fished the lighter from his back pocket to hand to Ryan. "You don't have to make me hang out with you, I always want to hang," he spoke up after a moment, watching as Ryan puffed on the cigarette a few times until it caught flame. 

For a moment there was silence, excluding the muted voices and laughs of the people in the venue behind them. "Yeah, I know, but it's like I told you earlier today. You seem stand offish. I just wanted to know if I pissed you off or something."

It actually made Brendon laugh, the fact that Ryan thought that he had upset Brendon in any capacity. The guitarist was surprisingly sensitive considering the cold and aloof persona that their fans had given him. Ryan was the kind of person who would go out of his way to pet a dog across the street and get way too upset if he did anything to hurt anyone's feelings. It was one of the traits that Brendon loved so damn much about him. 

"No. C'mon, you haven't done anything. What would you have done to piss me off that much? I've just got a lot going on and it's been a process," Brendon answered honestly. 

Ryan nodded, exhaling the smoke slowly through the side of his mouth so as not to blow the smoke directly in his friend's face. "Yeah? Like what?"

Brendon had to pause again, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Just some personal stuff." 

"You know you can tell me anything, B. I care about you," Ryan frowned, the words making Brendon smile goofily. Maybe he could tell him. He could trust Ryan, right? Of course he could. If there was anyone out there that made Brendon feel accepted and cared for, it was Ryan.

"Aww, I care about you, too! Ryan you like me!" Brendon laughed, once again throwing his arms around the taller man as he peppered his face with exaggerated, friendly kisses. I was enough to make Ryan grunt in affectionate annoyance, holding his hand out to the side so as not to burn the drunken singer with his cigarette thanks to the way he kept hanging all over him. 

"Oh my fucking God, I take it back, you're the worst," Ryan groaned loudly, his permanently bored gaze shifting to the door behind him as it opened. 

Dallon was the first to walk out, clearly stone cold sober with a very drunk Seaman stumbling in his wake. He gave a bit of a startled 'oh' as he spotted Ryan and Brendon, his gaze shifting between the two. "Sorry, didn't know we were interrupting something," he spoke a bit stiffly, pointing towards the bus behind the main one to emphasize his intention. 

"No, you're fine, man, B's just drunk. I can see you've got a similar issue," Ryan chuckled softly, Brendon separating himself from Ryan's side once the joke was over. "Least I have the one that can sit up straight," he quirked a brow towards Seaman, the drummer giving a good natured laugh at being called out for having a little too much fun. 

"Nah, nah, I'm good! I'll be the first one up tomorrow morning with absolutely no hangover, don't worry about me!" Seaman slurred, the jovial way about him strangely endearing even when he was clearly plastered. 

"Shouldn't you get him to bed?" Dallon frowned, nodding towards Brendon who was laughing way too loudly at the way Seaman kept taking small sips from a beer he had hidden behind his back and out of his friend's view. 

Ryan shrugged, clearly indifferent. "He's fine, we're about to go to bed right now. Just having a smoke first."

"I can talk, you know. I'm drunk but I'm not Ryan drunk," Brendon whined, pointing to the blue haired man for emphasis as he was promptly greeted with a friendly flip of his middle finger in retaliation. 

Dallon nodded his head gently, only to snatch the beer out of Seaman's hand with an exhausted sigh. "Okay, yeah, no, sorry. Night Brendon, take an Aspirin before you go to bed and chug a water," he chuckled softly, clearly an expert at handling drunken band mates as he ushered Seaman back to their bus. 

Ryan was quick to snuff out his cigarette, clearly agitated as he made his way into the tour bus with Brendon in tow. "Did I do something to piss him off?"

"What? Why do you think that?" Brendon laughed, making his way towards the bunks so he could crawl into his. 

He could hear Ryan climbing into the one across from him, Brendon keeping the curtain to his open so he could turn and face the now clearly grumpy looking guitarist. 

"I don't know. He just seemed standoffish. Like, he said good night to just you."

"You're reading into it, he's probably just focused on making sure Ryan doesn't wander off into traffic. He's a nice guy, I met him earlier today before the show," Brendon reassured him, wiggling in his bunk to find a more comfortable spot. 

"Yeah--I wonder if he's an Omega. Dude was acting like a real bitch." 

The words sunk in Brendon's chest, an unpleasant tightening that momentarily knocked the breath from him. Though he was quick to give a nervous laugh, shifting his eyes to look up at the top of his bunk. "I don't know, could be."

So maybe he couldn't tell him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I discovered comments make me write ten times faster. Who'd of thought.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all! This chapter came waaaay slower than I wanted to since I was out on the road for about five days with no time to write. I tried to compensate for the time it took by making this chapter lengthier. As always, comments are appreciated, because the way this story has been embraced by all of you really has fueled my desire to write quickly. Bonus points for anyone who catches things and picks up on clues that have been riddle throughout. Enjoy!

Arizona was hot. Too hot. Hotter than Los Angeles, but in the kind of way that if you opened the door to step outside, you were blasted in the face with heat from a 400 degree oven rather than the humid heat that California provided. It reminded him of Las Vegas, but Brendon had grown so accustomed to the moisture that Los Angeles provided that the dry heat Phoenix provided made him want to throw himself into traffic. 

And it didn't help that the bus had decided to have it's air conditioning fail on them right before arriving at the venue. So there they sat, a bus full of cranky, agitated musicians dripping in sweat doing their damnedest not to tear one another's throats out from sheer heat exhaustion. Even Jon, who was the mos mild mannered and relaxed person Brendon had ever met, looked like he could smack any one of them if they opened their mouth and said something wrong. 

"Are we there yet?" Spencer groaned from his spot propped against the side of the mini fridge, a bottle of Coca-Cola pressed to his neck. 

"You asked that five minutes ago," Ryan answered dully, the monotonous tone of his voice holding a sharp edge in it that threatened an outburst should his patience be tested any further. 

"And it was two hours 'til Phoenix then, so by my calculations, that's an hour and fifty-five minutes until Phoenix now," Jon piped up, trying his best to keep the atmosphere light even as the tension in the air continued to build.

Brendon groaned, looking up from the ground at his band mates with the most pathetic look he could muster. Why the hell had it been their bus that decided not to provide cool air? Weren't they the headliners? Why did the supporting acts and the roadie buses not break down in such a hellish way? It was like the universe was punishing him, one bull shit twist at a time. He had to wonder if he had upset a witch or a gypsy or touched a haunted goddamn artifact with the way his life was going, lately. 

Clearly the world wanted him to understand something. Or maybe it was a series of coincidences that Brendon wanted to think had a higher meaning involving him. Because everything had to do with him, right?

"Here, B," he could hear Ryan speak up from above him, pressing a wet wash cloth to the back of their singer's sweat slicked neck. It was enough to emit a thankful moan from Brendon, his eyes falling shut as he continuously struggled to push his wet bangs from his eyes. 

"Can't we just go hang out in the other buses until we get to the venue? It's literally over a hundred degrees in here. And I'm sure our body heat isn't making it any better for the driver. Fuck, even Zack went to the front because it's too hot with all us back here making it worse," Brendon whined, ignoring the one scoff of annoyance above him at the suggestion.

"Executive decision! Driver, tell everyone to pull over. We're shuffling the fuck around!" Spencer all but shouted, more than happy to go with that line of thought. Anything beat the hellish heat they were currently facing, even if a certain member of their band seemed hesitant to interact with anyone outside of their core group. 

It took about forty-five minutes out of their drive time to shuffle the buses around. Equipment went into the first bus that the band had previously had, any extra in the last. Jon, Zack, and Spencer had decided to play nice with the crew, which wasn't entirely unexpected. What was unexpected was Ryan's decision to go with the opening bands and their bus, since he wasn't the type of person who enjoyed going out of his way to meet new people let alone share a closed quarters with them. He knew most everyone that was part of their crew, but then again Brendon had decided to go with the opening bands, as well.

If they had all picked to hang out with people they knew for the remainder of the drive, they'd look like assholes. Or at least, that's how Brendon viewed it. He didn't want them all to seem like unfriendly divas who saw themselves above the opening acts. With a grumpy Ryan in tow, the pair boarded the bus with mutual sighs of appreciation the moment the air conditioning hit their skin.

"God bless artificial air," Ryan laughed softly from behind Brendon as the younger man made his way to the back of the bus towards the lounge. 

From the looks of things, no one particularly minded the addition of the two musicians. Not even Brendon seemed particularly tense to be around Alphas and Betas that he wasn't that familiar with. It was interesting, as a Beta he never really thought much about how uncomfortable it was to be around new people based on whether or not they were an Alpha. There was no stigma, no real threat or sense of awkwardness. But as an Omega, he was hyper aware of what everyone around him was, even if no one else was aware of him. 

There was just something off putting over the fact that your biology could make you weaker than someone. Lower on the food chain, on the social ladder. Brendon had heard of places, legal places, that Alphas could go to spend the few days of their Rut and rent out an Omega in the process. And yet there was no place where an Omega could do the same with an Alpha during their Heat. Instead, they got the option that Brendon had. Take a damn pill every day and hope that you don't forget it and then it never comes. Even if there were side-effects to even that kind of a life style, since it wasn't exactly healthy for an Omega to take the route Brendon had headed down. But fuck it, he could suffer through that when he wasn't on tour and could lock himself away and not be bothered. 

When he was on tour, he was fucked. And not in the way his stupid biology demanded he be. It was that nothing is fair, the universe is bull shit, why does this happen to me, kind of fucked. 

"You okay? You've been quiet this whole time," Dallon was the first to pull Brendon back to reality, the small singer looking around to notice Ryan had actually made friends with Seaman and the pair were chatting with one another on the other side of the bus with the musicians from the other support act. He hadn't even seen Dallon get up to sit next to Brendon, as he had subconsciously curled himself into a corner in the lounge. 

Surprisingly, Dallon seemed genuinely concerned. Typically when people Brendon didn't know that well came up to him, they were more interested in his connections than the state of his well-being, but it was hard to deny the care in Dallon's eyes. It made Brendon smile, nodding his head to reassure the man beside him. 

"No, yeah, I'm fine. Just hot," Brendon laughed, fanning his hand in front of himself for emphasis. 

"I kind of noticed. You sweat a lot for a tiny thing, don't you?" Dallon teased with a soft smile, pointing to the way Brendon's skin still glistened and his clothes stuck to his skin even in the air conditioned sanctuary of the bus that actually worked. 

"Blame my genetics. If it's even just slightly hot, I'm guaranteed to look like a baby seal. Good thing I don't smell, too," Brendon teased right back as he bumped his shoulder against the tall musician, watching the way he kept looking over him with what could only be described as a mixture of care and intent. 

Dallon leaned in close, the sudden invasion of space catching Brendon off guard as he gave a bit of a grunt of confusion. To his surprise he stopped just about a few millimeters away from his face, Brendon staring up at Dallon only to burst out into a fit of disbelieving laughter as he watched him give a few playful flares of his nostrils. 

"You're right. You smell good," he chuckled, Brendon pushing at his shoulder gently with a roll of his eyes.

"Hey, B, what're you up to?" Ryan called out, his gaze fixated rather intensely on Dallon despite the fact he was addressing his band mate. But it didn't seem to bother either men, both all smiles as Brendon got up to join Ryan in his conversation with Seaman.

There was an odd sort of tension in the bus, even Brendon had to admit that. At first he had thought Ryan was being overly paranoid by thinking that Dallon didn't like him, but then it was starting to become abundantly clear that maybe Dallon did harbor some sort of animosity towards the guitarist. Whenever Brendon looked over towards either man, he could see either one or the other leering. And while Brendon was the first who would say that Ryan had a resting bitch face, the look on his face seemed more aggressive than it usually did when he was staring of into space.

But it didn't make sense. Dallon had no reason to dislike Ryan. Unless they had some sort of altercation that he hadn't known about. Did they know each other from somewhere? That didn't make sense, either, considering the fact that Brendon knew everyone that Ryan did, considering his anti-social nature. The sensation of Ryan bumping a little closer to him caught his attention, Brendon looking over as the taller musician pressed his side to his, his hand surprisingly close to Brendon's own as it rested over his knee. 

He had half a mind to ask Ryan what the hell he thought he was doing, but the closeness was nice. Ever since Brendon had started taking this damn medication, his sex life had been effectively destroyed. He was so in his damn head about his own biology that it made it impossible for him to form a connection with anyone enough to want to fuck them. It was like he was a Jack-in-the-Box at this point, winding up and winding up to the point where he was on the verge of just exploding. 

The body heat Ryan provided and the pressure of his body just ever so slightly against his was comforting, Brendon trying his best not to inhale too deeply because God damn it, Ryan smelled good. Stupid fucking Alphas and there stupid fucking scent. Brendon shifted his weight against his seat so he could press towards Ryan as subtlety as possible. It was okay if he played this off. There was nothing wrong with leaning into an Alpha.

"So, Dallon, you have an Alpha back home waiting for you?" Ryan spoke up, Brendon retracting from leaning against the guitarist as he instead stared at him in shock at the question.

Though miraculously, Dallon didn't take the bait. It was always surprising for an Alpha not to pop off when they were assumed to be an Omega, considering the vast differences in character, body type, and personality between the two types. Had Dallon asked Ryan the same thing, there wasn't a doubt in Brendon's mind that Ryan would have decked him into next week, even if Ryan wasn't by nature a violent person. 

"No, I'm afraid I don't have an Omega," Dallon corrected him politely, a calm, yet agitated smile on his lips as he looked up from his cell phone. "What about you? Or do you live through the stereotype that musicians can't commit and spend your time with whatever comes your way?"

Seaman was the first to break the tension, laughing loudly as he slapped Dallon hard on the back, mostly to get him to leering at Ryan. "See, this is why I'm glad I'm a Beta. Brendon, isn't it nicer to not have to worry about pissing contests and territory conflicts?"

Brendon looked up with a small nod, a nervous laugh bubbling up from his chest. "Yeah, tell me about it."

"We have to be getting close to the venue. Being in that hot ass bus for so long fucked with my head," Ryan snapped, standing up abruptly to make his way to the front of the bus and away from everyone in the back. 

Ryan was clearly furious, though over what Brendon couldn't understand. Was being around another Alpha pissing him off that much? They'd never had any issues with other bands before, typically it was Spencer who had the behavioral issues and that was only because he genuinely enjoyed asserting himself among other Alphas. It was more or less the reason he was basically the leader of the band. But Ryan? Ryan was always calm and collected. This was the most frustration he'd seen him experience since they recorded their last album.

"I'm gonna go check on him," Brendon spoke softly as he stood up, making his way out of the lounge to the front where Ryan had situated himself alone sans the driver. The agitation on his face was still visible, Ryan's arms folded over his chest in agitation as he bounced his foot incessantly over his knee. "You okay, grumpy?" Brendon smiled as he situated himself beside the other musician once again. 

"Yeah--No, yeah, I'm fine. I don't know, my head's been kind of like, loopy lately. Kind of like right before I start my Rut, but I know that can't be head. I just feel like..." Ryan paused, clucking his tongue against the roof of his mouth before he shrugged his shoulders. "Are you and Dallon fucking?"

"What?!" Brendon shouted, loud and amused only to quickly quiet himself down as Ryan fixed his glare on him this time. "No! God, what? Why would you think that? We barely just met! Do you think I'm just running around sleeping with anyone!?" 

The way Ryan's face lit up in embarrassment was actually endearing. It didn't take much to embarrass Ryan, the guitarist a shy and nervous individual by nature despite his somewhat domineering persona. It made Brendon smile again, his index finger beginning to jab playfully into his rib cage to get Ryan's attention.

"I don't know. I just get this vibe. The way he looks at you, or like, the way he sits near you and gets close. It's like he's interested in you. And I get you're friendly and you're nice to everyone but I thought that maybe--"

"What would it matter if he liked me?" Brendon interrupted him carefully as that little light bulb went off in his head. 

Ryan shrugged again, scowling as his frustration with the situation began to show on his face instead of just his body language. "It shouldn't matter! It doesn't matter, I just. I'm telling you, my head is just jumbled up. I think it's the heat. "

Brendon nodded his head slowly in response, pursing his lips together as he felt the bus roll to a stop. Ryan almost instantly rose to his feet, shooting up abruptly as he made a beeline towards the exit. It was like he couldn't wait to get away from Brendon, like the further the distance between them the better off he would be. 

Shoulders slumped, Brendon followed suit, grunting in displeasure at the wave of heat that hit him as soon as he set foot off of the bus. God damn it, why was this city so unbearably hot? It wasn't natural.

\--  
Even the show had been nauseatingly hot. With all those bodies crammed into one room, the lights from the stage, and the desert heat, it was nothing if not a cocktail recipe for Brendon wanting to rip off his clothes. Typically he was the first to go for the showers after a show, but all he could think about was getting the fuck out of his stage clothes. So when they did their last song he all but ran off the stage and through the back of the venue to their dressing room. 

The clothes came off instantly, Brendon throwing the coat off first so it hit the couch in the corner followed by the dress shirt beneath. The pants came off immediately after, so that he was left in just his boxer briefs that he was pretty damn tempted to rip off as well if it weren't for the fact that he was pretty damn opposed to going commando in jeans as tight as he wore. Damn, the one time he left his basket ball shorts on the bus.

The sound of the dressing room door opening made him turn his head, glancing over his shoulder towards the intruder. "Naked dude in here," Brendon called out, only to laugh at the way the door hung awkwardly ajar followed by an awkward "uhhh" from behind it. "I'm kidding, I got my underwear on. What's up?"

Dallon carefully popped his head inside, the musician keeping his eyes to the ground as he made his way inside and closed the door behind him. "I just wanted to say you had a good show," he seemed to stumble over his words, the way that he kept his eyes on the ground drawing another amused chuckle from Brendon's lips. 

"You saw me when I was coming into Heat, I feel like that's a little more intimate than seeing me in my boxer briefs, D," Brendon piped up as he turned to face the mirror so he could start scrubbing off the eyeliner that had since been agitating his eyes with how he'd sweated the damn shit off throughout the show.

Though as he watched Dallon through the mirror, he couldn't help but notice the odd tension in the room. At least from the other man's part. He seemed tenser than normal, though Brendon had come to find that Dallon by nature was a very tense person. But since the afternoon in the bus, he seemed even more wound up than he'd seen him. By nature he seemed the type who preferred solitude and keeping to himself, something Brendon hadn't really seen of a front man for a band. When they'd hang out on days off or after shows, Dallon would either excommunicate himself from the group or politely decline the invitation all together. There was no pack mentality with Dallon, and Brendon had to wonder if that was because of them or simply the way Dallon preferred to live his life. 

But Dallon was clearly drawn to Brendon. That much was clear. Then again most people were drawn to Brendon. It was hard not to be when you were as hard to ignore as him. 

"I feel like that's a little different. I was protecting you in that moment, you weren't in your right head space," Dallon answered, his shoulders giving an indifferent sort of shrug.

"Don't feel like you have to protect me just because I'm an Omega. I'm a big boy, I can take care of myself. You can take that Alpha bull shit and suck it," Brendon teased though despite his light tone there was some truth in his statement. He didn't like the idea that Dallon wanted to protect him and be around him simply because he was the only Omega in the group. No one else noticed, after all. "Also, I wanted to ask you something. What was up with you snapping at Ryan earlier? Did you guys have a fight over something?"

The last thing he needed was for more drama to erupt between those two, especially in front of anyone else. Ryan was clearly in a strange mood over Dallon and Dallon didn't care for Ryan for only God knew why. But it wasn't like he could have them both at each other's throats for the remainder of the time Dallon's band was supporting them. 

"I don't like the way he looks at you," Dallon replied, plain and simple. The answer was so honest and blunt that it genuinely caught Brendon by surprise. Everyone was so unsure and uncertain about everything all the time that it was actually unexpected for someone to come right out and say exactly how they felt about something. 

"The way he looks at me?" Brendon scoffed. Ryan looked at everyone the same. With perpetual boredom and mild irritation. 

"His stare lingers. He looks at you just... really intensely. And he gets really close. Almost like he's trying to assert himself over you in front of everyone. It just makes me really uncomfortable. Like he thinks he's your Alpha or something."

The comment caught him off guard, if only because Brendon didn't see that at all. Ryan? Staring? Being overly protective of Brendon? Shielding him from other Alphas? That made not the least bit of sense. Especially because quite frankly, Ryan had no idea that Brendon was an Omega. It was impossible for an Alpha to mate with a Beta. Their biology didn't make sense. Sure, there were those out there that said fuck biology and made it work, but a Beta couldn't take an Alpha's knot and there was always that underlying terror that an Alpha would leave a Beta because of their inability to be mated and bred. 

Observations from someone who didn't know Ryan. That's all this was. But then there was another question--why the hell did Dallon care?

"So what if he does?" Brendon proceeded carefully, knowing that he could very well be stepping into dangerous territory by continuing on with his line of questioning. "It's not like I'm your Omega, either. What? You get a whiff of something you like when I was having my episode and now your stupid, Alpha brain can't function properly until you get it in?"

"What, no!" Dallon shouted, his tone and expression genuinely offended. "I've never even been with an Omega like that before!"

Now that was shocking. Brendon knew a lot of Alphas. Hell, he was in a band full of them. But an Alpha, especially one who was older like Dallon, that had never mated before? That was hard to believe, even for someone as trusting as him. "Bull shit! You can't be nearing 30 and never got it in with an Omega before!"

"I mean, I've had sex, Brendon! But I've never--" Brendon could see the way Dallon's face began to flush, the way he seemed incredibly uncomfortable with being the subject of conversation especially when it was this topic. 

"Like, knotted inside one?" Brendon finished for him, watching as the lanky man in front of him nodded tensely in the positive. Shit. That was hard for him to wrap his head around. A mature Alpha that had never knotted an Omega? How the hell was Dallon even sane? "Are you just, like, afraid of getting someone knocked up, or...?"

Dallon sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Clearly this was a topic he strayed away from for a reason. "I just want that moment be with the Omega that I want to be bonded to, that's all. It should be special. Not just a given because that's how my DNA is written. Just because you have something doesn't mean you need to use it all the time, you know? Me being an Alpha doesn't define who I am at my core."

For a few moments Brendon felt his heart flutter, the words settling comfortably in his head. That.. Was true. Just because Dallon was an Alpha didn't mean he had to abide by the stereotypes associated with them. Just like Brendon didn't have to as an Omega. With a smile he leaned in, wrapping his arms around the older man's neck to pull him in for a hug. "Thanks, I needed to hear something like that today," he murmured into his neck, the sound muffled by his skin. 

"Get the fuck off of him!" 

Intrinsically Brendon jumped back, assuming that he had done something in the wrong but to his surprise it wasn't him being shoved violently against the folding table that contained the bags of chips and fruit and candy the band had been snacking on prior to the show. It was Dallon. And standing over him with bared teeth and a closed fist was a scowling and growling Ryan Ross.


End file.
